After the Tishrei holiday season begins the period of Ve'Yaakov holoch le'darko, meaning 'And Jacob went on his way.' Every Jew goes on his way back to his work in fulfilling his unique mission in life. But now, he comes 'armed' with deep inspiration and energy that he has received from celebrating all the holidays in this month.
If only being "armed" with deep inspiration and energy could suffice at this time. Or should I really be saying, "I hope and pray that being "armed" with deep inspiration and energy will suffice at this time"? You can see that I'm caught between doubt and hope. But I'd like to hope.
Even though I'm not someone who usually dances*** in the streets on Simchat Torah,**** there's nothing I like better than endings that are beginnings, especially when they can be counted on as annual experiences; cycles give me hope.Simchat Torah comes right after Sukkot, a multi-day holiday during which Jews symbolize both their vulnerability as mortals living in a material world that they cannot control, and their lack of fear of that vulnerability because of their connections to and dependence upon God and one another.
I use the word "they" in the preceding paragraph to emphasize my recognition that my personal grief and fear are more abstract than those
being experienced by many others: I don't know personally any Israelis, Palestinians, and
Americans who have died, been captured, been forced from their homes,
lost loved ones, are longing for news of missing loved ones, are
wondering whether and how they'll survive physically and psychologically
during the weeks and months ahead.
That's exactly why I'm seizing this moment to talk about several things that made me smile--and one thing that made me jump for joy. Interestingly the first few are connected to Orchard Cove, the senior living community in Canton where my mother resides on the Skilled Nursing Floor.
I've always felt deeply appreciative of the way my mother is looked after, cared for, and engaged by the Orchard Cove staff. But recently, I've been noticing how much several of the residents on the floor who do not have cognitive or memory issues extend themselves toward the residents who do; for example, one of them is always telling my mother, "You're adorable," while another frequently says to her, "I love you." It won't surprise you to know how warm and welcoming they are to me as "her daughter."
I was especially reminded of all this personalized kindness during the music therapy session in which my mother and some of her fellow Orchard Cove residents with cognitive and memory issues participated on the Monday before Simchat Torah. The music therapist, who comes every other week, is a member of the New England Irish Harp Orchestra, and she comes bearing not only her harp and a guitar, but an array of lightweight percussion instruments that can be banged, stroked, tapped, rattled, and shaken. One resident excitedly brings his own drum to the sessions.
The next thing that made me smile were my visits to the Orchard Cove sukkah. Both times, aside from enjoying the lovely fall weather, I thought about the meaning of the sukkah's temporariness and its mandated, very porous ceiling that as easily admitted windswept rain as sunlight and starlight. I definitely had in mind a few paragraphs from Sarah Hurwitz's Here All Along*(8)--which are even more relevant now, given the events of the last couple of weeks.
Sukkot seems to be telling us that being written in the Book of Life is an all-inclusive kind of deal. It is not "The Book of the Pleasant Things in Life" or "The Book of the Easy Things in Life." It is "The Book of Life"--all of it. If you try to keep out the rain, you'll be unable to see any of the stars. If you refuse to bear the heat, you'll never feel the sun on your skin. Either you get the whole package--pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow--or you get a numb, closed-off, sleepwalking existence that might seem safe and manageable, but isn't much of a life. That kind of existence offers only the illusion of control, . . ..
Echoing a theme that runs throughout Judaism, Sukkot urges us: Do this awake. And don't anxiously brace against the uncertainty of an awakened life, or grudgingly endure it. Rejoice in it. . . .. (201)
As I wrote in my journal after my second visit to the sukkah, I had the "feeling I was in a God-space, or somehow surrounded [--distinctly not alone in world--], basically feeling I was where I was supposed to be with a kind of right-mindedness."
In my book, Manuel is tikkun olam personified, tikkun olam meaning repairing the world, a Jewish obligation. His medium is writing and his skill is off the charts, but I believe his writing would not have the power to transform readers were it not a reflection of Manuel's deepest truly generous self and his authentic compassion for people generally, and especially for people making their ways without fanfare and often without much help through circumstances ranging from mundane to difficult. But don't worry: if you spent time with Manuel, you wouldn't for a minute wonder if you were in the presence of a saint: he wears his true self lightly, and he laughs a lot.
Manuel's work elevates his readers and his characters, especially those whose stories are often known to few or none. Manuel's writing is so spare, so vivid, so observant and concentrated on
the details that reveal his characters' inner lives that it happens to us while
we're reading it. Gently we're pulled into his characters' inner and
outer worlds, our own observations and emotions naturally conducting us to new
sensitivities, understandings, and awarenesses. If you've yet to
read The Consequences, you'll see what I mean when you do.
Last week, one of my favorite poets, Louise Glück, died. As her editor Jonathan Galassi said in her CNN obituary, "Louise Glück’s poetry gives voice to our untrusting but unstillable
need for knowledge and connection in an often unreliable world."*(10)
Though some experience Glück’s poetry as negative and depressing, I have always been reassured by its hard-edged pursuit of truth, its steely focus on "knowledge and connection." So I was pleased to come upon these words from her in the same obituary: “Yes, the world is falling apart,” . . .. “But here we all are,
we’re still alive. And a sense of possibility emerges from that fact,
from anything — just that stubborn human need to hope.” Dark and discouraging as some of her verse could seem or be, she was ever hoping.
* "Chronometer (Triptych) Panel #1"--Painting by Scott Ketcham. 2010-2011, 60X40", Oil, Acrylic, Sand, Stocking, Spray Paint on Wood. https://www.scottketcham.com/post/96355432372/68a-chronometer-triptych-panel-1-2010-2011
** Jacobson, S. (2008). 60 days: A spiritual guide to the high holidays. New York: Kiyum Press.
***As Simon Jacobson explains in 60 Days: A Spiritual Guide to the High Holidays,
Simchat Torah is such a joyous holiday that "we," confident in "our
inherent connection with G-d and Torah," literally dance: "We therefore
dance with absolute passion and no limits. Our legs carry us as our arms
are wrapped around a Torah scroll."***
*** Screen shot of this page of the Arizona Jewish Post: https://azjewishpost.com/2018/if-dancing-on-simchat-torah-makes-you-feel-uneasy-think-of-it-as-a-test/
***** Screen shot of photo with this caption on website of The Boston Globe: Mourners sat at the
funeral of Staff Sergeant Yuval Ben Yaakov, an Israeli soldier killed
when Palestinian militants entered Israel, in the cemetery in Kfar
Menachem, Israel, on Monday. AVISHAG SHAAR-YASHUV/NYT
*(6)"No Danger" by Paul Carley: Currently on view at the Fourth Floor Artists Association's current "The Dark Side of Art" Exhibition. https://www.facebook.com/4thFloorArtists/
*(7) Music Therapist Linda LaSalle can be found on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/linda-lasalle-musictherapy/
*(8) Hurwitz, S. (2019). Here all along: Finding meaning, spirituality, and a deeper connection to life--in Judaism (after finally choosing to look there). Spiegel & Grau.
*(9) Photograph of Manuel posted on his Facebook page on October 4, 2023.
*(10) Andrew, S. (2023, October 13). Poet and Nobel laureate Louise Glück dies at 80. CNN. https://www.cnn.com/style/louise-gluck-dies-poet-nobel-prize-cec/index.html
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